Elsewhere
by fadewithfury
Summary: A woman gives Rose an old pocket watch with a tearful request. Rose accepts, but soon finds herself struggling through her difficult course load. Meanwhile, she develops feelings for a professor—trouble is, he has been dead for over forty years. University AU, loosely inspired by the film Somewhere In Time.
1. Chapter 1

Thank you to Kilodalton for the beta, and lauraxxtennant for the britpick! Been sitting on this idea for 2 years, very happy to finally have it started. :)

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><p><em>Spring, First Year, 2007<em>

Rose found an empty seat in the back of the auditorium and fidgeted with her mobile as she waited for the lecture to begin. The placard outside advertised an exciting adventure through space and time; perfect for a kip in the dark while some droll professor went on about the stars. She'd get the assignment mark she needed, and then she could skip out to the cinema with the girls.

Before she could locate Shareen and enter a text, the lights dimmed and a woman walked out on stage, wide heels clipping with the intent of her stride. She wore a striped blazer and black trousers; short, dusky grey hair framed her lined face. The surrounding ambient chatter went quiet all at once, and Rose slid her mobile back into her pocket.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Professor Susan Foreman. Welcome to Linvale University's forty-second annual Science Discovery Fair." She paused to smile and approach a podium. "I hope you've enjoyed the live experiments and student projects throughout the foyer. For now, though, let's talk a bit about our vast, strange universe, shall we?"

A wide screen slowly lowered behind her, and she began her presentation with a video of sunlight rising over the curved edge of the Earth in space.

"Long ago, we once thought the sun revolved around the Earth," Professor Foreman began.

Rose stifled a yawn and slouched further in her seat. Perfect. Eyes drifting shut, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and fell asleep to the relaxing presentation music.

The sound of an explosion jolted her awake, and she sat up to catch the tail end of a supernova on the screen.

"Now, technically, there's no sound in space." Professor Foreman said with a smirk. "Well—for argument's sake, sound is just a lot slower in space so it might as well not be there at all. Either way, I hope you're all awake now."

Rose looked around, sheepish, and focused on the screen as an old timey photo of a young man appeared in place of the film.

"My grandfather, Doctor John Noble—once a professor here at Linvale University, as you may know—was particularly interested in time travel."

Rose blinked. Wow, she must have missed quite a lot. A passing fear of having to provide evidence that she'd been paying attention raced through her, but it faded the longer she stared at the photo.

"He claimed to have developed a prototype that he alleged actually worked! Just imagine—travelling through time, being able to go back and correct past mistakes." Professor Foreman lent a sing-song voice to her tale, but paused to shake her head. "Very few believed him, and they were right to be sceptical."

Rose stared at the portrait, and bit at her bottom lip. He had a charming look about him, with warmth in his dark eyes, hair just unkempt enough to make it look intentional, and freckles across the bridge of his nose. Professor Foreman's voice faded away to just a murmur in the distance as Rose drank in the details of his face. Something about the way he smiled made her heart skip a beat, like she was the one who inspired it. She felt herself blushing and averted her eyes, and finally the woman moved on to another slide that represented one of Doctor Noble's theories on time travel.

But his image was burnt into her mind, and she could no longer take advantage of the dark auditorium to catch up on sleep. Doctor John Noble, she'd remember that. There's nothing crazy about fancying historical blokes, is there? She'd never admit that one to Shareen, though _she_ was also never one to deny when a man was attractive, even the imaginary ones.

When the lecture ended and the lights brightened, Rose remained in her seat, unexpectedly mesmerized by the computer simulated rogue planets and black holes. Space wasn't necessarily something she had a particular interest in before. A passing one, same as anyone, but the Hubble image of thousands of galaxies gave her a feeling like she was part of something bigger. Like _she_ was significant simply because she was part of it all.

"Excuse me, miss."

Rose blinked and looked up to the source of the voice. It was the lecturer, her eyes gleaming in such a strange and haunting way that made Rose sit up straighter.

"Yeah? Um, hi. Hello, that was brilliant," Rose said, and smiled as she stood, feeling a little silly in her presence.

"It's you. It's really you. Oh—" Her voice broke and she covered her mouth with her hand.

"Sorry?"

The woman, Professor Foreman, she'd called herself, reached into her bag and pulled out a pocket watch, then pressed it into Rose's hand, her own trembling. Rose looked down at the watch. It was bronze, and freshly polished, with a fancy circle pattern etched on the case. A thin, but sturdy chain slipped through her fingers as she looked back up, perplexed.

"Please go back to him."

Rose's mouth dropped open, but she'd no idea what to say. She licked her lips and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Wha—who?"

Tears welled in the professor's eyes. "_Please_." She squeezed Rose's hands around the watch before letting go.

"All right, yeah. I will."

What else could she say? Rose looked down at the watch, avoiding the woman's tearful gaze, and nudged the latch open with a fingertip. The clock face inside was… It was actually _multiple_ clock faces intersecting one another, with numbers in black around the perimeter of each interconnected circle, and gears visible along the border.

She looked up to ask _who_ exactly, but the professor had disappeared into the crowd of students as they moved for the auditorium exit.

_October, Second Year, 2007_

Rose sat on the sofa with the care package her mother had delivered. She riffled through, pulled out the necessities—toiletries, teas, socks, a few new shirts, cheap art supplies that brought tears to her eyes, and other things. As she unfolded one of the shirts, something heavy slipped out and landed with a clunk on the floor.

It was the pocket watch the professor had given her months 'd almost forgotten about it with the frenzy of preparing for second year of uni, and the intensity of the classes themselves. First year business school was absolutely brutal, second year was shaping up to be even worse.

She picked up the pocket watch, its delicate chain winding around her wrist, and opened it with a press of her thumb on the latch. The lid popped open, and like before, the odd design of the clock face captivated her into a quiet reflection. The flat surroundings faded away, and for a moment she believed she could lean forward and fall into the cogs and springs inside and find herself in another world.

"That's neat. Where'd you get it?" Martha, Rose's flatmate, asked dropping a heavy medical textbook on the desk with a resounding _thud_.

Rose gasped, snapping the pocket watch shut. "Um, it's, ah—mum left it for me. Guess it was granddads."

"Ah, looks old. Did I startle you? I knocked and everything."

"Yeah, sorry. Was away with the fairies; all this studying has me going a bit mad." She shoved the watch under the stack of shirts. "Still going out with Tom?"

Martha smiled and hid her face in her hands. "God, can't believe I'm doing this. Shouldn't have let you talk me into it! Have an exam in the morning; a surprise, that one."

"Don't bail on 'im now." Rose grinned. "He'll be sweet, just say you can't stay out late."

"Yeah, maybe. Gonna shower." Martha gave an excited sort of cringe and hurried off to do just that.

Rose exhaled once the bathroom door had closed, and looked around at the items spread out on the sofa. There was a folded note she'd overlooked before, her name scrawled in the slanted loops of her mother's handwriting on the surface. She opened it to read.

_Hello sweetheart,_

_I put some things together for you. Sorry it took a bit, you know how it is with moving. Found this old watch while cleaning out your closet in that big art portfolio. You should hang on to that one. Could be worth a fortune someday. Where__'d you get it anyway? Pete says he wants to hang your drawings in the new place, but I told him he__'d have to ask you. Ring me when you can._

_Love,_

_Mum_

She placed the letter on the tea table, and stared at the stack of shirts where she'd stuffed the pocket watch, chewing on her thumbnail as seconds ticked by. Unable to resist any longer, she pulled the watch back out of the drawer.

Memories of that day resurfaced once the watch's weight filled her palm. She'd woken up at half ten after a long night out and realised she had to do _something _at the Science Fair for an exam mark. How she'd passed Jimmy Stone on the lawn, playing his stupid guitar to an adoring flock of students and narrowly escaped his notice as she rushed into the building.

The lecturer's tearful voice as she placed the pocket watch in her hand.

_Please, go back to him._

She turned the watch over in her hand, bronze gleaming like stars in the lamplight. Sweeping her thumb over the grooved designs soothed her, and she felt a renewed pull to understand more about its origins. There was something rough engraved along the bottom edge, the initials _J.N._

She went to the tiny desk in her room and set the watch on top of the stack of sketchpads and class notes that littered the surface. She then opened her laptop and sat down to begin her search. Taking a deep breath, she stared at the blinking curser in the _Google _search field.

_Susan Foreman, McCrimmon Hall._

The university website came up; first result. Professor Susan Foreman's biography, along with her course list. The name Doctor John Noble, her grandfather, was underlined in her bio, indicating that it was a link, and she clicked it, that name striking a chord.

It led to an article in the university history section that had been written in recent years about him, and there was the photo of him, still pretty—and now she could see his freckles so much more clearly at the crisp laptop screen resolution.

"Shame you're from another time."

She began to read.

_Professor John Noble, known fondly as __'the Doctor,__' was a pioneer of astrophysics in the early nineteen hundreds. He taught at Linvale University from 1905 until his mysterious disappearance just ten years later. It wouldn__'t be until the 1930s that he__'d return, with a daughter in tow, and an even more perplexing understanding of the cosmos._

It then went on to describe in droll detail the various achievements he'd won, the classes he taught, the books he'd written. And on to his family life—his parents who had been lost at sea, leaving him and his older sister, Donna, alone in the world. There was a bit about his eccentric nature, how he travelled the world, his enthusiasm for science and learning in his lectures. Nothing too unusual, per se.

Rose searched further, but there was very little about him outside of the article itself. It was as though he hadn't even existed beyond his contributions to the university. She certainly didn't remember learning about him at all in school along with the other big names of science. It was just… odd. Odd that someone who had posited such profound and revolutionary theories, someone who'd been so beloved in his time, according to the article, would leave barely a mark on history.

"So what's this got to do with me?"

It seemed nothing. Nothing at all. She sighed and skimmed back over the article to see if she'd overlooked something. The photograph was labeled as having been taken on December 20th, 1912. His disappearance was marked to have occurred whilst out on a summer expedition in 1914. He had a particular interest in time travel, built a time machine and all that. Basically, he was a nutter. A dishy nutter, but still a nutter. Oh, she was rubbish at this.

When Martha returned, she offered few details about her date (had that much time passed already?) before diving into her text book. Not that Rose could properly digest anything said, so far down the rabbit hole she was. And she really, really should study herself, but… one last thing.

She did an image search as a last ditch effort, and the only result was the same one she'd seen already, repeated several times over. Dozens of adoring smiles cast her way in sepia tones. Sighing, she closed the tab and her laptop, then placed the pocket watch in her bedside table drawer. She then went to bed after uttering a half-hearted goodnight to a still-studying Martha.

As she drifted off to sleep, she fretted over impossible assignments, and entertained a few impossible thoughts. What if his machine _had_ worked? What if she—

Three weeks passed, and Rose had moved on to focus on more pressing matters. Like her first term project—a sodding business proposal presentation. She had an idea, but convincing her professor of its investment worth was gonna be impossible. Yeah, an art studio that teaches classes for low income families, and puts on art shows wouldn't stand a chance over some of her classmates' ideas. She couldn't think of anything else, but she was sure to fail this damn class anyway, so why should it matter? Still, she hated presentations.

Attempts to calm her nerves failed as she crossed campus to the class in question. She nearly tripped on a step and spilled her entire project portfolio across the pavement, and she really should just turn around and pretend to have a stomach flu. She sighed and shouldered on, but a pang of regret cut through her heart. She shouldn't've listened to them. A guaranteed career at Pete's company sounded great at the time. Practical and secure, just like her mum wanted for her. But as she struggled through another year of uni, she couldn't help feel like it'd all bean a big mistake. If only she had a time machine.

She stopped in her tracks, and turned around to head back to her flat.

When she reached her room, she tossed her books and the portfolio on her bed, grabbed the pocket watch, and slipped it into the zippered pocket of her jacket. Today, she'd pay McCrimmon Hall a visit instead of give a half-assed presentation. Maybe it was a huge mistake. Or, maybe she could find the professor who'd given her the watch and do something more interesting (less humiliating) with her time.

The walk was a bit long, and nearly to the other side of London, so she took the bus. Finally there, she pressed open the glass door to find the hall replete with studded leather furniture, gleaming brown wood, and pin-drop silence—a stark contrast to the day of the fair. The door squeaked on its hinge, and a student sitting at one of the lamplit desks off to the side looked up at her briefly. She gave an awkward smile, and then headed over to one of the flights of steps that curved around the perimeter of the foyer.

There, under the stairs, was an office, its door propped open to let a florescent glow spill out on the marble tile. Rose approached, craning her neck to see a woman staring, face blank and bored, at her monitor. She looked up and gave her mouse a click as Rose drew near.

"May I help you?"

"Ah, yes. Looking for Professor Foreman?"

"She's retired, dear. Few weeks ago now."

"Oh." Puzzled, Rose chewed on her lip. A pang of sadness struck her, and she brought her hand up to feel the circular outline of the watch in her pocket.

"Professor Garrett has taken over for her, maybe he could help you?"

"Well, um, I'm actually looking for more information on her grandfather—John Noble? S'for a class."

"You'll need to go up the stairs, take a left, and then head down the second hall to your right. That's where you'll find a lot of the photos and things from McCrimmon Hall's history. Maybe someone up there can help you."

"Right, thanks."

She turned and followed the path she'd been instructed to take, and entered a wood-paneled hallway. Dusty photos hung in symmetrical patterns. Photos of the building from the 1800s, of old academic clubs, interspersed with spotlit, heavy framed portraits of previous headmasters, and smaller, color photos of professors from the recent past. She searched each one until she spotted him, standing with the astronomy club of 1911.

He was tall and lanky, his pinstriped suit cut more slender than others of his time. A pocket watch chain hung from a waistcoat pocket, and she squinted, leaning close, to see if it's the same as—

"Hello, my dear. Are you lost?"

Rose spun towards the voice to find an older gentleman in glasses standing there. He blinked and gave her a peculiar look.

"No, I'm just looking for information on a professor that taught here in the early nineteen hundreds. For a class." She smiled and tucked a stand of hair behind her ear.

He nodded and glanced over her shoulder to the picture she'd been studying. "The Doctor?"

"Yeah, um, John Noble. There wasn't much on the net."

"Come with me, ah-"

"Ro-er-Lily. Lily Ss-smith. Lily Smith." Couldn't have anyone know she was here.

"Lovely. Just call me Wilf, I'm the historical custodian of McCrimmon Hall." He put out his hand and she shook it. "Didn't mean to imply you're lost, just don't get many visitors."

"S'okay. Nice to meet you."

Rose followed him deeper down the hallway.

"Get a few tours through the year, but very few students. Anyway, the Doctor, he was called. Requested that any detailed information about his life be kept off the internet. He didn't quite call it that, but it was strange what he knew for a fellow who died in the early seventies."

Rose was half listening, half searching for more pictures of him along the wall as they went. They reached a turn and there at the end of the hall was the portrait of him she'd already seen. Wilf continued on down the hall, still talking, but she was too captivated by the look in the Doctor's eyes to register.

It was like he was staring right at her with a depth of longing to his gaze that made her heart race. She drifted closer, searching his face, putting every detail to memory. Her stomach did a flip at the realization her eyes had focused on his bottom lip. She licked her own and shook her head, trying to snap herself out of it.

"There you are, thought I bored you into running." Wilf had returned, chuckling.

"Oh, s-sorry. Yeah i was just-" she pointed at the portrait.

Wilf squinted at her again, tilting his head.

"What?"

"You look awfully familiar. Anyway," he dismissed it with a wave of his hand, "this way. There's some things of his in storage in the attic. He lived at the uni, did you know? Is it a biography?"

"Huh? Oh. Um, yeah." She resumed following Wilf up another flight of stairs and to a thick, metal door.

He fussed with the keys for a bit, and then finally had the door open. They ascended another flight of steps, wooden and worn with age, that led up to an open space filled with boxes and furniture and filing cabinets. Shafts of sunlight pierced the space from around the curtain of the small window, and paintings, faded and chipped from age, were hung on exposed wall beams. The smell of must and aged paper overwhelmed her senses for a moment, and she coughed.

"Sorry for the dust. Over there is his alleged time machine." Wilf gestured to what looked like a faded blue wardrobe trimmed with chipped golden designs similar to what was etched on the outside of the pocket watch.

Rose walked up to it and ran her hand along the smooth wood. "It's beautiful. A bit sad for it to be stuffed up here, yeah?"

Wilf laughed. "You can take that up with him. He said it was imperative that it remain right here in this spot. Left it in his will and everything."

"What's inside?"

"No idea. It's locked up, and the key's long gone. Though Professor Foreman said it has a bench seat on one side and a glass column on the other. A control panel of sorts, perhaps, but sounds like a bit much to fit in that little thing."

Rose walked around the box, measuring it up, and then scanned the rest of the room. "So, I can just go through this stuff, then?"

"Oh, just keep to this side here," he gestured with a sweeping motion of his arm to the entire right side of the attic. "The rest is archival storage for other things. Were true when he lived here, too."

"All right, thanks." Rose took a few steps towards a filing cabinet.

"Also, don't touch that." He pointed to a large telescope aimed up at the ceiling. "I come up here sometimes and look at the stars, have it aimed right at the Pleiades. Perfect time of year."

"Ceiling opens?"

"Yeah, on a crank there. Ol' Professor Noble had it rigged up that way. Was a massive stargazer himself. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Need to meet a benefactor for tea. If you have to go, just pull the door closed and drop off the key by my office. I'm just off to the left when you get back to the main hall. Wilfred Mott." He worked the key off of its ring and tossed it to her.

She caught it and slid it into her jeans pocket. "Thanks, thank you, really."

"Good luck." He turned to go.

She heard his footsteps descend the stairs, followed by the heavy_ thunk_ of the door sealing shut.

Now cocooned in the stuffy warmth of the attic, Rose studied her surroundings. There was a bed shoved against the far wall, just under the slant of ceiling beams, piled high with books. The filing cabinets nearby were unlabeled, and she pulled on the nearest drawer to find it filled with lesson plans and curriculum notes from long ago. The other drawers revealed more of the same.

She pulled one of the folders out, its contents brittle and yellowed with age. There, on the inside, was a lesson plan for the scientific method. His handwriting filled the page, flowing beyond the prescribed structure of the layout, racing up along every margin. He'd also left little drawings, equations, notes on which students would benefit from what kinds of examples.

When she found herself smiling, assuming his charming personality from nothing more than notes on a page, she closed the folder and slid it back into its home. Rolling her eyes at herself, she moved on to the desk, opening all of the drawers. They were empty, save for a few folder brads and a ruler.

The books on the bed were a mixture of antiquarian science books, historical tomes, and literature in varied languages. She wandered to another wardrobe and pried it open, finding nothing within but a tie hanging from a hook. Reaching out without thinking, she took the tie in her hand, running her fingertips along the silken fabric. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the base board in the wardrobe was slightly askew, and she kneeled down to inspect it. There was a corner where she could pry a finger into and it popped up, whinging on a hinge. She opened it all the way and stared dumbly at what was beneath.

A charcoal sketch of her own face staring back at her, hair pulled back in combs and styled softly around her face in a typical Edwardian coif. The faint tracings of lace could be seen at her neck, and simple, but elegant earrings dangled from her ears.

Pulse pounding, she lifted the drawing delicately to find an old leather field journal underneath. She set the drawing aside, and brought it to her lap and unbuckled the strap keeping it closed, the sharp smell of leather and old paper filling her nostrils. Reminded her of the ancient encyclopedias at her primary school library, or the used bookstore around the corner from the laundrette where her mother would send her to peruse for trashy romances whilst the laundry ran.

Inside were more drawings. Schematics. Notes in the same handwriting as the lesson plans. Equations that filled entire pages. There were diagrams of the blue wardrobe, and of the pocket watch—the very same she held in her hand.

She looked down, not remembering when she'd pulled it out, but there it was in her open palm. A glance back at the blue wardrobe Wilf had called the Doctor's time machine incited a rush of apprehension.

"Can't be real."

Flipping the page in the journal once more, she found another drawing of the woman who looked like her. This time, she was a rough sketch, hair falling around her face, over her eye. Her lips were full and smiling, eyes narrow, coy. There were blotches in the ink, smudges from a trembling hand, and a phrase scratched out below, made illegible by too much ink on the pen.

With trembling hands, she shut the journal and put it back, placed the drawing over it, and closed the compartment. She stood and backed away from the wardrobe a few steps, eyes skimming over her surroundings, just waiting for someone to jump out and tell her she's been had—that she's on camera and a victim of the most ludicrous prank in the world.

Her back hit the blue wardrobe, and she yelped in surprise, nearly stumbling into a coat rack and knocking it over. A long, brown trench coat swayed from its hook, disturbed by her blunder. She held onto it to prevent it from falling over, and stood as still as possible to steady her breathing.

Time travel wasn't possible. That couldn't have been her—everyone has a twin somewhere in the world, yeah?

_Please, go back to him._

The memory of Professor Foreman's forlorn eyes swam into her mind, chased by a shiver us her spine. Too eerie; this is all just too bloody strange. Giving a business presentation began to sound a lot more appealing.

Her mobile buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Martha.

_Where are you? Tom says you weren__'t in class._

Shit. And the time—nearly two o'clock! She inhaled and shook her head, stuffing the mobile back into her jacket pocket. The chain of the pocket watch caught on her fingers as she went to withdraw her hand, and she pulled it out, considering leaving it on the desk and never looking back.

Instead, she raced down the stairs, taking two at a time, and barreled out of the door. As she rushed down the hall, she bumped into Wilf who had just finished up his meeting with the benefactor. The force of the collision knocked the watch from her hand and it went rolling down the hall, chain smacking the floor as it went.

"Oh, god. I'm so sorry!"

Wilf stumbled back against the wall, knocking a photo askew. "Goodness, what's wrong?"

"Gonna be late for class. I'm so sorry! Are you all right?" She reached for him.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." He chuckled and straightened out his cardigan, and brushed himself off. "You dropped something down there."

Rose followed his gesture to the pocket watch on the floor. It had come to rest at the foot of a small table topped by a lamp on a doily. She hurried over to pick it up, and caught sight of the portrait of Professor Noble at the end of the hall. Her stomach flipped and blood rushed to her cheeks, embarrassed.

"I'm going mad. You're just a picture," she said to herself. Standing, she schooled her features and turned back to Wilf.

He pointed her way, finger taping the air. "Oh, dear, I'm sorry, ah Lily, was it? I just remembered who you remind me of."

She shook her head to move the hair that had fallen across her face, and pocketed the watch. "Y-yeah?"

"There's a drawing of a woman somewhere up there, that's where I've seen your face before. Susan said her name was Rose. S'all she'd say though. Anyway, you look right like her, I daresay."

Rose shook her head slightly, hairs rising on the back of her neck. "S'not—can't be me."

Wilf laughed. "'Course not! There's a likeness, for sure. Unless he really did invent a time machine. Maybe she's a long lost relative?"

Rose let out a breathy laugh that she was sure wasn't at all convincing. "Right. Maybe."

"Anyway, have things to do. You be careful." Wilf smiled with a wave, and turned away to head for his office.

Rose waited until he'd gone around the corner, and then let out a whoosh of breath as she doubled over, hands on her knees. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she squeezed her eyes shut. If it really was her—if she'd actually gone back in time… She stood up and looked over her shoulder at the portrait of Professor Noble, and then back down to the pocket watch.

Without a second thought, she headed back up to the attic.

She reached the top of the steps, and the blue wardrobe loomed in the slanted ray of afternoon sunlight from the window. She fidgeted with the pocket watch in her hand and chewed a nail on her other. Searching its surface over, she found a little circular dip in the golden design that crossed the door. She put the watch in the hollow space, and it clicked as she pressed it into place. There was a winding noise—like gears turning, and then a series of clicks, followed by the release of a latch within.

Rose pulled on the handle, and the door opened. Inside was just how he said Professor Foreman had described. A bench squished into the left side, a glass tube rising from a control panel squished against the right. Cramped, but somehow it all fit. She plucked the pocket watch from the door and stepped inside, taking a seat on the bench. On the control panel, in addition to the levers and knobs, was another circular space like the one on the door. She bit her lip and flipped open the watch.

"'Kay, there's gotta be some reason why you look like this."

One face was set to twelve twenty, the other to nine after one, and the last to twelve after one.

"Twelve… twenty…" She tilted her head, face scrunching as she stared. "One-o-nine, one-twelve? Nineteen twelve. Nineteen twelve!" It's a date! Has to be—Twelve twenty. Twenty twelve. December twentieth?

All of her earlier apprehension is washed away by a flood of adrenaline. Grinning, she popped the watch into the circular space on the control panel and pressed with her thumb.

Just like with the door, a sequence of clicks followed, and then a low, soft hum. She pulled the doors closed just as the glass tube lit up with a pulsing green light. A feeling like flying down the steep hill of a roller coaster pulled at her belly, and then everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to Kilodalton for the beta. After a bit of a rough start, Rose finally lands in 1912.

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><p>The soft lilt of a piano awoke Rose, and she opened her eyes to the darkness inside of the wardrobe time machine. Dim, colorful light seeped through a crack between the doors, and she sat forward to peer beyond the thin space. That was when she realized her vision had gone blurry; she squeezed her eyes shut and tried again.<p>

A blackboard with chalked equations was propped against the stairway bannister, and a stained glass lamp rested on the edge of a table nearby. There wasn't much else she could see, so she closed her eyes as the piano music played on, crackling intermittently, like on a record. The melody took on a somber key, and its heaviness began to pull her along, stirring up sad thoughts. A sudden click of a door latch being opened made her eyes spring open.

Footsteps ascended the wooden steps, accompanied by a pleasant hum, and Rose held her breath. A shadow passed by the crack in the wardrobe doors, and the smell of tea and aftershave wafted by with it. She bit her lip, heart doing barrel rolls in her chest.

The soft clink of a teacup being set on a table was followed by a heavy sigh.

"Really don't want to do this."

Her skin tingled from the sound of his gentle, soothing voice. Was it him? It had to be! Pain shot through her lip as she bit a little too hard to keep herself from squeaking in excitement. She went back in time! She actually, properly went back in time!

He took a sip of his tea, and she wondered if she should just… pop out and say hello. No, he'd think she was barmy—a strange woman hiding in his wardrobe! She was beginning to wonder how she got there, when his footsteps crossed the floor. Peering through the crack, she saw him putting on a tie, his arms bent up to wench the knot into place. His back was to her, though that didn't stop her from admiring his broad shoulders and the little lock of soft, brown hair that curled behind his ear.

He turned to walk towards the staircase, and stopped right by the wardrobe in which she hid. She went as still as possible, heard him take a deep breath, heard the rustle of his jacket as he reached out to touch the wardrobe.

She licked her lips, eyes focusing on the long fingers of the hand that rested at his side. An itch cropped up beside her nose, and her leg was getting cramped in her current position. She moved to relieve some of the pressure on her knee when something hard slipped from her pocket. With a soft gasp, she caught the strange object in her hand before it could make a clatter on the floor of the wardrobe.

"Huh."

Squeezing her eyes shut, her heart sped up in a panic. How would she explain how she got here? She heard his hand slide along the door towards the handle as she glanced down at what she'd caught—some sort of thin, dark case. Her finger accidentally hit a button on its side as she attempted to turn it around, and the object lit up, displaying a message.

_Where are you? Tom says you weren't in class. _Martha, 12 Nov., 2007.

Rose blinked as a wave of dizziness came over her. There was a pulling sensation in her belly, followed by blurred vision. She inhaled and exhaled, trying to will it away, but it only grew stronger and stronger until everything went dark.

"Rose? Rose, are you up here?"

Wilf's voice split through the quiet. Rose opened her eyes to the glow of the glass tube, and dread dropped through her stomach.

"No…No! I was there!" She felt around on the small console, vision blurred by tears, and found that the pocket watch was no longer pressed into the recess, but popped slightly out of it.

"He-hello?" His footsteps drew closer to the wardrobe.

"I'm—I'm here." Her voice wavered under the weight of her distress.

"You were there, weren't you?" There was wonder in his voice, and she heard him step closer.

That's when it clicked—he'd called her by her real name. She pushed open the door to the wardrobe and stepped out, shielding her eyes from the relative brightness of the attic room. She glanced over at Wilf, who had an old fashioned dress folded over his forearm.

"Yeah, I was. H-how do I go back? I want to—" Her voice caught on the words, and she looked down to steel herself against the rising of emotions.

"Blimey…" Wilf stared at the time machine in disbelief, and then blinked out of it. "Uh, Susan said you can't have anything from the future, or you'll be brought back. Breaks the spell."

Rose looked down at the mobile in her hand and clenched her jaw. "You called me by my name. You knew, didn't you?"

"No, love. You had the pocket watch. Susan had it with her every day. Said she was holding it for the woman in the drawings—for Rose. I went straight away to give her a ring, and she told me how to help you. Said she'd come herself, but she's not well."

"S-so I can try again, yeah? I'm gonna try again. Wait—how much time has passed?"

"Not sure when you went in, but I was on the phone with her for about thirty minutes. I'm not sure how it all works, to be honest. Seems unsafe, if you ask me. What if you get stuck there? What about all the people who might miss you—"

"Susan, that's Professor Foreman, right? Yeah, she's the one who gave me this watch; she was upset when she did. Seemed to be very important to her, so I should go back and see why. You let her know that I'm doing it, 'kay? Tell her it'll be all right. And my mum—I-I don't know. I'll find a way back, I will. But not before I see what's—I have to. He needs me." She looked down at the watch as she fidgeted with her earring.

Wilf nodded. "You've your mind made up. I'll let her know."

Rose looked over to the desk, almost expecting to see a tea mug there. Professor Noble—the Doctor, he'd been right there, just a few steps away. His voice came to her mind, though the words weren't so clear, and she weighed the reasons why she wanted to do this. Why she felt she had to. She reached out in the space of the room as though she might be able to feel his presence through the layers of time.

"You'll need to change." He held up the dress. "I brought this one. Should help immerse you. There's a storage room for the drama department just a few doors down—lots of period costumes there. I'll go hunt down some accessories, and meanwhile, you should think of a story for yourself. According to Susan, er, John's writings, the traveller forgets he's from another time. You'll believe your story, like hypnosis in a way, and your mind will fill in details to help immerse you further. Anything from your original time will bring you right back to the present."

"That's why…" She looked down to her mobile, recalling how confused she'd been at its presence.

Wilf slung the dress over the banister and placed a coin on top. "There's a coin minted in 2007, so if you're in trouble, that'll bring you back."

Rose nodded, watching him.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. Be back shortly with a few things—you think about your story."

Rose sighed and closed her eyes. What the hell kind of story could she come up with? She knew very little about the early nineteen hundreds. She chewed on her lip and went over to the dress, holding it up to herself. A corset and underclothing set fell out from beneath it, and she bent to pick it up. It was all so lovely, the dress itself a creamy colour with lace and ribbon accents, a silk sash tied high on her waist, and a swishy hemline that fell to the tops of her feet.

She spent time removing her clothing and getting dressed—fussed a bit with the corset clasps in the front, but eventually managed fine on her own. There was a mirror turned sideways near the wardrobe on the other side of the room, and she pulled it out to look at herself.

Her hair would definitely need some sort of style. She twisted it into a bun, making a face, and let it go as she heard Wilf knocking below.

"Come up."

He returned with hair combs, gloves, earrings, shoes, and a coin purse. "Not much, but better than jeans and a zippered jacket. If you plan on staying longer than a couple of days, you might need to find another outfit."

Rose grinned. "Thanks. How do I look?" She lifted out the sides of the dress and spun.

"Oh, you look the part. Just a treat."

She slid on the shoes and other accessories, and then pulled her hair back in a twist, fixing it in place with the combs, all the while mulling over her story. Something simple, something she wouldn't have to bend over backwards to prove. Something that might impress—stop. Butterflies did somersaults in her stomach and she shook her head, pulling herself away from that line of thinking. She gazed at herself in the mirror, focused on the urgency of Professor Foreman's request.

"I'm Rose Tyler from a small village south of London. I'm here looking for work to help pay for medicine for my sick mother. I'm looking for Professor John Noble, an astrophysics professor here." Rose turned towards Wilf as she adjusted the sash at her waist. "How's that?"

"Think it'll do." He smiled. "You're sure you want to do this? S'all a bit impossible, innit?"

Rose smiled back and grabbed the pocket watch from the desk where she'd placed it whilst dressing. "Yep, I was there."

"What if you're trapped there? In another time…"

"I'll be with the man who invented a time machine. I reckon if anyone could help me get back, it'd be him." She smoothed her hands down the front of the dress and looked around. "And just in case, I'll have the coin."

Wilf nodded. "Very well; just-just be careful."

Rose nodded, slipping the coin into a small pocket within her coin purse.

"Good luck. Gonna keep watch, if you don't mind."

"Oh, that's fine." Rose sought out her mobile on the pile of her clothing. She pulled up the text from Martha, and entered a message.

_Stomach ache, went to the nurse, I'm ok. have something to do, I'll be back_

Text sent, she tossed the mobile back on the pile of clothing and gave Wilf a little wave. "See ya."

He waved back. "Godspeed, Rose Tyler."

She re-entered the time machine and placed the pocket watch back into the circular recess, pressing it until the console lit up like before. She sat down, and closed her eyes, repeating her story to herself.

_I'm Rose Tyler, twenty years old. From Powell, small town, south of London. My mum's sick; I'm here to find work to help pay for her medicine. Dad died when I was little. It's just us, and she's getting worse. Was told to find Professor John Noble. Check the small pocket if my life is in danger._

After repeating the story like a mantra in her mind, and visualizing herself walking the halls, asking around for John Noble, she felt the familiar pull in her belly. A wave of dizziness overcame her, and then everything faded away.

_20__th__ December, 1912_

The scent of tea and that same mournful piano awoke her, and she smiled, joy filling her heart. She remained quiet for a few moments, letting it sink in that she'd actually skipped an important class assignment to go back in time. It was too late now for second guesses.

Biting her lip, she picked up the pocket watch, slid it into her coin purse, and pressed open the cupboard doors. Her shoe met the wooden floor with a click, and she stopped, holding her breath with an inhale. All was quiet. Feeling confident that she was alone, she took in the room surrounding her.

It was quaint as an attic flat could be. Lived in, though a bit cold and drafty. There were no paintings on the exposed wooden beams, and the books were like new, lined up neatly on shelves instead of piled on the bed. He had a blackboard that blocked the stairway bannister, and his desk was covered in papers and books. She smiled, and just breathed in the scent that lingered on the air. Tea and pine and paper and sandalwood.

Right, just go find him, see why it was so important for her to, and then go home. A little flirt along the way wouldn't harm anything.

She descended the attic stairs and into the corridor below, where she was swallowed whole by intricate patterns on everything. _Everything._ The walls, the picture frames, the chairs, the tables, the carpet. Nothing was untouched by airy, floral colors and patterns. It all felt rather light and welcoming, though it disoriented her, the overly ornate wallpaper and extravagant décor that certainly hadn't been there before. But, neither had she… her vision went blurry, and she shook her head to fend off the wave of confusion. Ah, she must've come down this hall to visit the ladies.

She made her way down the hallway and another flight of stairs, and on until she reached the open foyer. She rested her hands on the bannister, and swept her eyes over the small crowd of people below.

Ladies in long, romantic dresses with big hats and lacy fans. Gentlemen with waistcoats and bowties. They mingled and laughed and danced to live music—a harp, piano and string quartet. A massive Christmas tree practically encrusted with ornaments and lights in the midst of it all. Holly boughs with actual silver bells draped along the grand staircase. Everything was so excessive, so bright, and hope blossomed in her chest at the sight of it.

"I made it."

She smiled and trailed her hand along the bannister as she made her way over to the staircase where a man and woman were engaged in conversation a short distance away. She approached them, forcing a pleasant smile through her trembling nerves.

"Ah—hello."

The woman lifted an eyebrow after looking Rose up and down, her flower-decked hat poised at a tilt on her head. "Are you lost, child? Classes are off for Christmas, you know."

"I, um, yeah. I think I am a bit lost. I'm Rose—looking for Professor Noble. Is he around?"

"I haven't a clue, dear. Knowing him, he's up in his attic room working on that ridiculous contraption."

The gentleman gave a lofty chuckle at that.

Rose narrowed her eyes, but glanced over at the Christmas tree, trying to assess what was going on. "So, this is some kind of Christmas party, yeah? S'nice; posh."

"Whatever other kind of Christmas party should there be?" The gentleman said, laughing.

Rose forced a laugh with him, scratching behind her ear and looking askance. What arseholes. "Yeah, exactly."

"Where'd you get that frock, anyway? Haven't seen that cut in nearly a decade!" The woman placed her gloved hand on her chest as she fluttered a small, painted fan, her tone taking on a kind of mock kindness that made Rose want to break her stupid fan in half.

Instead, Rose looked down at her gown and shrugged. "Oh, this? I got it at the not gonna care about what some old—"

Someone grasped her hand and tugged, and she looked up in shock to see Professor Noble, grinning at her.

"Hello! Come with me, I need a hand, would you?"

Rose lost her breath at the sight of him—of Professor Noble—her mouth opening and closing in an embarrassing fishlike manner. She nodded numbly and blinked a few too many times. His hand was warm against hers, and she threaded her fingers through instinctively.

He winked at her, and then lifted his chin as he addressed the man and woman she'd been talking to. "Pardon us—she's my assistant. Have an experiment going."

The woman gave him a reproachful glare, and Rose didn't have time to assess the man's reaction before Professor Noble began pulling her along with him down the grand staircase. When they reached the bottom, he let go and moved around to stand in front of her.

"Sorry, you looked like you needed an out, and I figured you'd make my entrance much grander than it would've been were I on my own." He flashed a cheeky smile.

Rose stared up at him, heart hammering in her throat, blocking any words from making their way out. She then shook her head and breathed in a rush of willpower. He was _flirting_. She'd take it and run.

Her mouth pursed, she tilted her head. "I dunno, was having a bit of fun with 'em." She shot a cheeky smile right back, rivalling his own.

He grinned. "You're brave! That was the headmaster and his wife." Fine lines splayed from the corners of his eyes, and the glow from the nearby tree decorations dappled flecks of silver light across his pinstriped suit.

Rose's eyes widened. "No! Oh, god!" She laughed. "You're havin' me on!"

"I'd never!" He laughed along, a genuine laugh, and then sobered as he squinted at her. " So, what brings you here, ah—"

"Oh, um—I'm Rose, Rose Tyler. My mum, she's… she's ill, and I need to find work to help pay for medicine. I-I've come a very long way."

"You've come to a university staff Christmas party to look for work? Blimey—well, suppose you've come to the right place. I do actually need an assistant, but, eerrr, you might not be interested in—well." He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around. "Oh! I'm John Noble, astrophysics professor." He stuck out his hand.

"The Doctor—I know." Rose took it, and he squeezed it gently before letting go, his gaze jumped from her hand to her mouth as a smile bloomed on her face.

He blinked and swallowed, eyes still focused on her smile. "Erm… right."

"I mean—if it's okay for me to call you that—isn't that what people call you?" Oh god, did she call him _Doctor_ before he had the nickname? The room around her spun, and she shook it off as she let her eyes linger on the tiny details of his face that helped to ground her. The shape of his nose, the adorable cleft in his chin, how one ear was a bit odd compared to the other.

"Oh, yes! They do. I rather like it." He smiled and slid his hands into his trouser pockets. "Prefer it, even. Came up with it." He swallowed and tugged at his ear, squinting up at the Christmas tree. "Actually, it hasn't quite caught on, but someday it must."

"Yeah." Rose let out a breath, a laugh made airy by the fluttering sensation in her stomach, and played with a lock of hair that had slipped from her combs. Now that she had him there before her eyes, and her pulse had stopped racing enough so she could focus, she braved a long look at him. His hair was soft and brown, just perfect for plunging her fingers into, and he was at just the right height so that she'd have to lift to her toes to give him a kiss. Ultimately, he was even more gorgeous in person, which both dismayed and enticed her. She was beginning to question why that line of thinking had even occurred to her (more gorgeous in person? She must've seen a photograph…), when he bowed slightly.

"It was lovely to meet you, Rose. I wish you luck in finding employment."

"Thanks, yeah." Rose shook her head, thinking he meant to end their conversation. She smiled, though she was sure it looked more like a grimace as she searched for how to keep him from walking away.

He stood there a moment longer, and an awkward tension fell between them, punctuated by laughter and music from the festivities surrounding them.

And then someone pulled him away by the elbow, drawing him to a gathering of professors all carrying on and greeting each other's spouses. Rose watched for a moment, fidgeting with her glove, adjusting the coin purse strapped to her wrist, fixing the scratchy neckline of her dress.

The Doctor—he preferred that name—then glanced over her way, searching, and when he found her still standing there, he smiled. It was a different sort of smile than the ones he'd given her before. It belied fondness, and maybe a bit of wonder. She looked down shyly, and when she looked back up, he had turned away again to resume his conversation with the others.

Rose wasn't about to just stand there like a muppet, so she began to wander a bit, making her way around the perimeter of the crowd and marveling at the elegant dresses and decorations. There was a cluster of tables at one side of the foyer, and an open space in the other, where couples were dancing to the music. She hovered between the two groups by the buffet table, and ate a few nibbles before she realised people in her vicinity were casting odd looks her way and whispering behind hands.

Feeling uneasy, she made her way back towards where she last saw the Doctor, but he wasn't there. She scanned the area, and saw someone who he'd been talking to just moments ago, a woman with long ginger hair and a simple purple dress with a sheer shawl around her shoulders.

"Excuse me, but the Doctor—Professor Noble—was he just here?"

"The Doctor…? Oh! You mean John." She laughed. "He went back that way; they're doing photographs for the yearbook." The woman pointed to a hallway that led away from the foyer.

"Thank you!" Rose hurried in that direction, but slowed her steps as she entered the hallway. This was a bit mad, wasn't it? He was a professor, and she was a… not a student. Right, so, it shouldn't scandalize anyone. She bit her lip and moved onward until she found a small crowd of people, and heard the little burst of a camera taking a picture. Soon after, a woman exited the room, her wide hat nearly taking out a decorative lantern on the wall as she went.

"Yes, yes. Sit like that. Just let me put in the plate, " the photographer said.

Rose overheard the photographer as she approached the room, ignoring officious glares from the people in the queue.

Nobody stopped her, so she kept on, wandered right into the classroom that had been repurposed for the photography session, and saw the Doctor sitting there in front of a plain backdrop.

"All right, smile a little or something, look like you want to be here." The photographer ducked into place behind the tripod.

Rose smiled as the Doctor caught her eye, and his face lit up, posture straightening. Something about the look on his face was hauntingly familiar, but she held his gaze.

"That's better!" The camera shutter went off. "Thank you. Next!"

The Doctor jumped up and took a couple of broad strides to reach her. "Lady Rose."

Rose smiled. "Just Rose is fine."

"Were you looking for me?" He asked (was that hope in his voice?) as they walked together to the hallway.

"Yes!" Calm down, Rose. "I mean… I was, yes."

They emerged from the hall just under the edge of the grand staircase, and stopped at the cusp of the foyer.

"So, Rose Tyler, have you decided?"

Rose looked up at him quizzically. "Decided? Oh! I—I'd love to, but—"

"Brilliant! That's settled, then."

Rose laughed. "You're not gonna ask me my experience?"

"Nah. You said you came a long way." He sniffed. "You're doing this to help your mother. Already I can see that you're brave, compassionate, and determined. Valuable traits for any position at a university."

Rose felt herself blushing again, but she wouldn't let him leave it at that. She knew nothing about astrophysics—whatever sort of assisting he likely needed, she was woefully underqualified for it.

"I worked in a shop before. S'the only job I've held. My father was killed in a carriage accident when I was young, and since then it's just been me and mum. I know the names of planets, and think the stars at night are beautiful—but I don't know anything else about them." The words came out without much thought, but once she'd spoken them, she felt a prickling behind her eyes.

The Doctor's eyes roamed over her for a quiet moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft and kind. "You came a very long way."

Rose nodded and looked down, her heart skipping a beat. "Yes. You've no idea."

"It was you, wasn't it?" His eyes narrowed curiously, head tilting.

"Me? Was what me?" Her brows knit together. "Oh, I was told to look for you, is that what you mean?"

A strange look entered his eyes, like he was figuring something out. He took a deep breath, and stepped closer to her. "You'll be compensated, of course. I'll get the necessary paperwork to you from the offices, and if you need a place to stay, you can stay in my room. I live here at the university. Well, sort of. I don't really have a _home_. Anyway, I'll sleep on the sofa in my office."

Rose couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't do anything but just let herself fall into his eyes, so open and sincere. Nodding, she licked her lips, a gesture his eyes focused on intently.

"John!"

The Doctor jerked his head over to the sound of his name. The ginger woman who had helped her find him before was hurrying over to them. She smiled tightly to Rose. "Do forgive me for intruding. Just a moment." And with that—once again—he was pulled away from her.

Rose watched them, set on edge by the way the woman kept looking over at her with a sceptical glance. Bits of their conversation drifted over the noise, and she strained to listen in.

"Who is that young woman?" The ginger asked, her eyebrows raised and lips pursed in exaggerated, teasing interest.

A burst of laughter and applause as a musician gave a little introduction to their next piece made it difficult to hear whatever they said next. Rose tried to not make it too obvious that she was eavesdropping, and pretended to study the lace pattern of her glove.

"—there was hardly time—"

"Oh, for—You were _conversing_, John, why not?"

The Doctor gave her a scandalized expression. "Just—gah! She's looking at us, thanks a lot."

"Well, just wanted to do you a favour, you skinny poppet."

"I'm sure."

The Doctor glanced over at Rose with a sheepish smile. His eyes cut up above her head, and then back to the ginger woman. "You're insufferable."

Rose began to look up, to see what he'd seen, but he was now returning to her, and she only had eyes for him. She smiled as he approached.

"Hello."

"Hi. Sorry. That was my sister, Donna. She's a little," he made a face and then shrugged.

"Your sister, that's a relief—I mean, that's good. She seems nice."

"Yes, well." He sniffed and looked up. "Seems to have caught us under the mistletoe."

Rose looked up with him, and her eyes widened. "Oh!"

"I won't have people saying a single derogatory word about you, so. Let's just…" He gently placed a hand on her lower back and guided her over to the buffet. "I'm a bit peckish, anyway. Are you?"

Rose nodded as she went along with him, her mouth twisting in disappointment. "Oh, let them talk," she murmured under her breath.

He grabbed a handful of nibbles and then looked down to her. "You like looking at stars, you said."

She took a puff pastry from the table and brought it to her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Yes."

"What else do you like to do?"

"Um. I, ah… do a bit of sketching. Real life stuff, mostly. People and nature." She licked the sugar from her lips. The pastry was so unbelievably sweet, and she coughed a bit.

A slow smile spread across the Doctor's face. "What say you—I'll show you the stars, and you can draw something for me. I have a telescope in the attic, perfect evening for it. Err—I mean, if you're comfortable with that. Definitely not suggesting that you…" He sighed and stuffed a few more nibbles in his mouth, a blush creeping over his face.

Rose swallowed the last of the pastry and smiled. "I'd love to."


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to kilodalton for the beta, and lauraxxtennant for britpicking! Thank you all for reading and your lovely reviews. :)

* * *

><p>Rose followed the Doctor through the mingling crowd towards the stairs. He kept a casual stride, and she kept her eyes above his waist—now wasn't the time to get caught staring at a professor's bum.<p>

Just as they reached the Christmas tree by the bannister, someone grabbed him by the elbow.

"John, do come over here and join us for a moment," said the gentleman in white collar and coattails.

The Doctor put on a pleasant face. "Oh, certainly."

He followed the other man to ring of older professors who were close by drinking from tiny elegant glasses. They all quieted their discussion, and the man who had stolen him away clapped him on the shoulder.

"I was just telling them about your latest, ah… _invention_. Care to elaborate?"

A couple of the men chuckled and exchanged knowing looks. Rose frowned.

The Doctor grinned, not seeming to catch on that he'd been pulled into a trap. "Oh, yes! I've made a breakthrough on my time travel theorem. Sent a thimble to the future with ninety-two percent success."

The men laughed, and one asked, "Is that so? What happened to the other eight percent of the thimble?"

"Oh, it was intact. I attempted to send it five minutes into the future, but only managed to send it 4.6 minutes into the future. You see, I'd forgotten to adjust for—"

The men began to laugh in earnest, breaking him off.

"Oh, don't say another word! This is splendid!"

"It's as if the Time Traveller were brought to life! Tell us more about the fourth dimension, would you?"

"Are you a professor of literature or a professor of science?"

The Doctor's proud smile broke Rose's heart, and she reached for him, sliding her arm through his. "Pardon me, sirs, but Professor Noble is needed over here."

None of them appeared to mind much as she pulled him away, though the Doctor frowned.

"Rose, I was just about to tell them how I almost have travel from the future-to-past solved."

"Yes, but I don't think they were truly interested. Maybe you can tell me?" She smiled and guided him back to the stairs.

"John!"

It was Donna again. The Doctor visibly cringed, head ducking, as he turned towards her call. Rose rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh.

"What is it this time?" He looked up as though checking for mistletoe.

Donna careened up to them, and then folded her arms, eyebrows raised. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Er… was about to show her the telescope, and let her make herself at home upstairs."

"Oh! Is that all? In that case, please do carry on." Donna gestured towards the staircase with a flourish.

The Doctor nodded, though gave her a funny look. "I… planned on it."

Donna hadn't budged. She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head, waiting. "Go on then, both of you. I'd quite like to see this play out."

Rose bit her lip to hide a smile, catching on to Donna's implications.

The Doctor put his foot on the first step as he looked between the two women. "What?"

"Oh, just going to watch as my brother heads upstairs to his bedroom with a young woman in front of all of his coworkers."

"I just hired her as my assistant, and she hasn't a place to stay. Anyway, she'll need to know how to work the telescope and other instruments, so it's—oh." His face turned the colour of the Christmas ribbon wrapped around the bannister. "Oh, dear. This is more inappropriate than I originally thought." He turned to Rose. "I'm terribly sorry, Lady Rose—"

"Just Rose."

"Rose." He smiled around her name.

"You could come up with us?" Rose said to Donna with a shrug.

Donna adjusted her shawl, her face screwing up as she contemplated the offer.

"There he is. John!" Someone called from the crowd, his accent decidedly American.

"Oh, not again…" Rose sighed. She had a mind to go off on her own if this kept up.

The Doctor and Donna both turned towards the voice with complete opposite expressions—the Doctor, with one of mounting annoyance, and Donna, with one of rapt interest.

Intrigued, Rose glanced along with them to see a handsome man with dark hair and a fit physique (filling out his military uniform quite nicely) heading their way.

"Hello, Jack," John said as the man drew near.

"Merry Christmas, Johnny boy!"

"Don't-don't call me that. I told you." Despite his aggravation, he gave a sideways smile.

"Sorry, professor." He grinned and shook the Doctor's hand, he then caught sight of Rose. "Oh, pardon me, my lady, who might you be?" Jack smiled at Rose, reaching for her hand.

Rose smiled back, lifting her hand for him to take. "Rose Tyler."

"Enchanté," he said as he placed a kiss on the backs of her fingers. "Captain Jack Harkness of the University Officers' Training Corps." He winked.

"She's mine—er, my assistant," said John, turning a few more shades of red. "I, ehm, just hired her, and was about to, ah…"

"Hello, Captain," said Donna, her smile straining after she'd gone unnoticed.

"Oh, Lady Donna. Always a pleasure," Jack said, kissing her hand. He then turned back to the Doctor. "John, come over here, there's someone I'd like you to meet. Pardon us, ladies." He flashed a smile at Donna and Rose, as he ushered a rather bemused Doctor back towards the tables.

Rose peered around the couples dancing to see where Jack had taken him, but Donna came to stand in front of her, blocking her view entirely.

"It's probably a good idea for you to head home. My brother's as harmless as a gnat, but this lot's a bunch of ruddy gossipmongers."

"Oh, that's fine. I don't really have a way home."

"I can find a ride for you. Why don't you return when classes resume? He won't need you till then."

Rose shook her head. "I came a very long way. I've nowhere else to go, so, yeah. Thanks for looking out, but I think I'll be fine."

"He told you to meet him here tonight? Hired you on the spot? That's a bit thick, even for him." Donna squinted at her, scrutinizing, but rightly so. It was rather odd timing.

Rose swayed with a wave of vertigo, and shook her head to clear her vision. She blinked and reached out for the bannister to steady herself. "Um, yeah, I think so."

"You _think_ so? Sorry, don't mean to pry. S'just a bit weird." Donna tilted her head, her scrutiny shifting to concern. "Oi, you all right?"

Rose blinked hard and looked around to get her bearings. A blast of cool air hit her as a small group of people went through the door, leaving for the evening. She shivered and refocused on Donna. "I, ah, just need—"

"Sorry about that," the Doctor said as he found his way back over to Rose and Donna. "Jack wanted me to meet his, ehm... friend. Ianto! Nice bloke." His smile faded as he took in Rose's condition. "Everything all right?"

Donna waved her hand. "Oh, just getting to know your assistant here." She looked back to Rose. "You cold, love? Where's your coat?"

"It's, ah, oh. I don't think I have one."

The Doctor's face shifted to one of deep concern, and he began to take off his jacket. "Here, you should take this."

"Hang on, Romeo." Donna stilled his hand and guided him a few steps away, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Did you ask her to meet you here tonight?"

He looked over to Rose. "Not specifically, why?"

"She seems to think so. Where'd she come from, anyway? Stacy said she saw her upstairs chatting with the headmaster."

"Donna, please. Now's not a good time to discuss this—if you want to come with us, that's fine, but just stop pressuring her for now. _Please_."

Donna rolled her eyes. "Yeah, fine. I'll come up to your bloody hidey-hole."

Rose stared at the Christmas tree, hearing every word. They were rather rubbish at whispering. She closed her eyes and attempted to tune them out, letting their voices meld into the rest of the noise of the party. Donna's questions played over in her mind, and every time she tried to think of how she got there, the memory swam away like a fish wriggling from her grasp.

Even her recollection of where she'd been just before descending the stairs to join the party was just…gone. Panic crept in, sending cold tendrils up her spine and making her heart beat faster. She brought her hand to her forehead, rubbing between her eyes. Had she hit her head? Certainly didn't drink anything peculiar.

A gentle hand on her shoulder pulled her back to the present.

"Rose, still want to see the stars?" His tone was gentle, hopeful.

She nodded, taking a breath. "'Course I do."

He studied her a moment, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Then come along. We'll go another way. Donna's going to join us to help you settle in."

The Doctor led them away from the stairs and towards a back hall, where they took an alternative route to the attic. Once they arrived, Rose felt much more at ease, letting the cool quiet settle her nerves as they ascended the stairs. The landing above was cozy, yet drafty, and she had the distinct sensation that she'd been there before.

Donna plopped on an old wingback chair as though she'd done the same countless times before, and grabbed an issue of _The Spectator _from the small table nearby. She flipped the pages, sighing.

Rose became instantly transfixed by the blue wardrobe beside the telescope, which the Doctor was currently fussing with. He propped open a ceiling hatch, flooding the attic in freezing cold air. She rubbed her arms and drifted towards the blue box, déjà vu stronger than ever. Soon after, there was a slap of wood against wood, and the cold ebbed.

"Rose," said the Doctor, coming to stand before her. "You look a bit disorientated."

"This wardrobe… where have I seen it before?" She flinched as a memory of being inside of it flashed in her mind—a tight space, strange levers, and a glowing column of glass. The ticking of a clock.

The room spun and she put her hand out to steady herself.

The Doctor grasped her hand and put another on her arm, helping her remain upright. "Come and have a seat, I think I know what's going on." He guided her over to the chair where Donna was currently sitting.

Donna stood at their approach, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, discarding the magazine on the desk along the way.

Rose sat down in the wingback chair, rubbing the threadbare fabric on its arms. The Doctor rubbed his hands together, breathing through his nose as though to quell excitement. He could barely contain a grin as he grabbed a newspaper and pulled over his desk chair to sit before her. He offered the paper to her, and she took it, eyebrow arched.

He swallowed. "Look at the date."

She did. "December twentieth, nineteen twelve."

He scooted closer, and put up his hands. She could see they were trembling. "Right. I'm going to try something—a little theory of mine. If it doesn't work, then… well. It was very lovely to meet you, Rose."

Rose furrowed her brow and sat back. "What?"

"Focus on that date, the reality of it. You truly _are _here."

"Of course she is," Donna said.

"Shh, don't interrupt."

"All right. But you're both barmy."

Ignoring her, the Doctor continued. "Rose, you're from another time, aren't you?" He reached for her hand and clasped it gently between his. "You're from another time, but you are here now. Do you feel my touch? I'm solid. I'm real—this isn't a dream. Now, look into my eyes and tell me where you're from."

Rose blinked, staring at the newspaper, knowing it somehow didn't match up with the date in her mind. A strange tug in her belly made her shut her eyes, but she forced them open as his thumb brushed along the back of her hand. He was gazing at her intently, a hint of wonder in his eyes.

"T-two thousand. Two thousand six. No, seven."

"Blimey." The Doctor squeezed her hand, a smile breaking on his face. "You came through my time machine, didn't you? Just look at me when you answer, focus on my voice."

Rose nodded, the memory of it slowly unfolding. His voice melted through her, and she felt as though she only existed where their hands and eyes were connected. She licked her lips, heart fluttering in her chest.

"Yeah, I used a—a watch. Pocket watch. It's in my bag, I can show—"

"Not yet. You see, you're not properly conditioned for time travel, so your mind is trying to pull you back to your original time. Any reminder of it brings on a fit of confusion, yes?"

Rose gave a nod.

"Right. I'm going to try to gently bridge the two realities, so that your memory of 2007 can coexist with the reality of 1912." He was still smiling, crinkles fanning from the corners of his eyes. There was an excitement just brimming under the surface, barely contained. He reached for her other hand, and leaned a little closer.

"You likely told yourself a story to immerse you in this time, yes?"

"My mother is ill and I came here for work, was told to find you."

"That's the one. Now, visualize your mother for me. Keep your eyes open. It's important that you see me. Tell me of her."

"Okay." She concentrated for a moment, and when the vision of her mother came to life in her mind, she made a face. "Looks a bit odd. Wearing trousers and has her hair in a terribly plain style. We're poor, so, perhaps… wait. She's looking at a box with moving pictures. A television, it's called."

The Doctor squeezed her hands. "That's your mum from 2007. Did she tell you to come and find me?"

"I don't think so…" Her eyes widened as more and more memories of her mother emerged in her mind. "Oh—I'm beginning to remember! She sent me a care package…"

The Doctor went on to guide her through reawakening other memories from her time-of-origin, all the while he kept reminding her of where she was now, his voice like a lighthouse guiding her in from the sea. Eventually, she could recall everything about her former time—that she'd been at uni struggling through a business degree she realized too late was not the right path for her. Her passion for art discouraged by people who loved her, who thought they knew what was best. Her mum remarrying a man who promised more stability. She remembered her friends—Mickey and Shareen—who'd been so difficult to keep up with at uni, a place they'd never be able to go. She once assumed she'd be right there with them, but then Pete came along with his fortunes and his promises for a stable career.

She'd been so aimless, so unsure of who she wanted to become, that she decided to grasp the only rope slung down for her. The higher she climbed, however, the more she realized it was not what she wanted. Eventually she stopped painting. Stopped sketching. She'd buy new things and draw a bit, but her skill had fallen short as time went on.

And then the woman with the watch entered her life, and it was like a new rope had been lowered for her to grasp, one with the Doctor on the other end. When she brought up the woman with the pocket watch, however, he cut her short.

"I think it's best if we stop here. I don't want to know my future."

"Oh, right. 'Course."

"Now you are yourself, only back in time. No fiction, no dying mother in need of medication. Just the reality of Rose Tyler, a pioneer of time travel. Whoever told you to find me, I must be sure to thank them someday. I do hope you'll enjoy your stay in 1912, though I'm afraid you're rather trapped here. I'm not sure how to send you back, though I have theories. If they prove to be correct—just as I was right about how the mind acclimates to time travel, then it would require a physical anachronism. Something from your time."

Rose remembered the coin. "I do have something, but…"

"Yes?" His smile faded a little.

"I'd like to stay a bit longer."

His smile returned, brighter than ever. "Me too. That is, I'd like you to stay. As long as you wish."

They gazed at one another in silence, hands still joined.

"Funny sort of thing for a man who basically invented time travel," said Donna. "Not wanting to know your future."

The Doctor flinched, releasing Rose's hands. "Donna! Forgot you were here, but it's nice to see you finally acknowledge that I've been successful."

"If by successful, you mean pretty women from the future are going to start coming out of your wardrobe on a regular basis, then yes." She laughed. "Oh, don't tell me. Has this all been a scheme to find the perfect woman? No one from this time will do. Makes perfect sense, now that I think of it."

"Donna, don't be daft. I didn't plan this. Up till now, I've only managed to send a thimble through time. I must make some incredible breakthroughs later. Well, of course I do. I'm a genius."

"You're something," Donna said with a smile and not a hint of derision.

The Doctor clapped as he stood, and began to pace, winding his fingers through his hair, mussing it up rather adorably. He rambled on to himself, pinning together his ideas on the canvas of his mind, and then dove for his desk, pulling out a drawer. Inside was a field journal—the one Rose remembered from the future—and he withdrew it, flipping to a specific page.

"Sorry, just let me get this down."

Grabbing a pen, he began to scratch feverishly on the page. Notes and equations spilling from his mind that meant very little to her, but brought a rather manic gleam to his eye. This was clearly his element, and she couldn't help but find it endearing. She'd never been one to fancy the nerdy ones, but something about him…

"Rose, you said you used a pocket watch, yes?"

"Yes."

He began to pace again after setting down his pen. "That's fascinating. Where—no, don't tell me. It needs to happen just as it did, otherwise you wouldn't've been brought here." He stopped pacing and rubbed his face, and then tugged at his ear. "Must've been a rather unique pocket watch. I wonder…" He waved his hands around. "Nope. Not another word."

Rose stood, smoothing out her dress. "Right. Lips are sealed." She grinned.

His eyes swept over her for the faintest moment before he turned away, heading for the telescope.

She followed him and fidgeted with her earring. "So, was there ever an ad? Did you just know to play along with my story?"

"Not exactly. Once it became clear to me that I had indeed heard something in my time machine, and it had indeed been you—and you'd displayed a bit of confusion and vertigo upon being questioned—I figured it'd be best. There've been a few studies, mostly posited by myself, that show hypnosis may play a large role in preparing the mind for time travel. At least until a time machine could essentially play that role for you, and alas my prototype is not yet capable of such a thing."

"Someday, yeah?" Rose smiled, tucking a strand of loose hair that kept slipping free of the comb being her ear.

His eyes lit up and he nodded. "Yes."

"So, she hasn't a place to stay," Donna said. "And don't say she can stay up here—you really didn't think that one through. It's drafty as an arctic hut and about as welcoming."

"I dunno, I rather like it." Rose smiled, looking up at the rafters.

The Doctor smiled at her as he responded to Donna. "No, I suppose she hasn't, but for tonight she can sleep here and I'll take the settee in my office."

Rose waved. "Oi, you could include me on the decision seeing as how I'm right here."

The Doctor gave an apologetic cringe. "Sorry, Rose—of course. Um…"

"We'll sort it later. Weren't you going to show me the stars?"

A warm smile spread across his face. "Why, yes, Rose Tyler." He reached out his hand, wiggling his fingers. "Care to watch the stars alight in advance of the winter solstice?"

"I'd love to." She took his hand and he led her over to the telescope.

Donna stood and began rummaging through the pile of magazines. "This is where I'll see myself out of the conversation."

The Doctor turned a crank on the wall and propped open the ceiling hatch, letting in a blast of cold air. He glanced over at Rose, saw her shiver, and then practically leapt across the room to grab his long coat from the hat stand.

"Sorry." He draped it about her shoulders.

She closed her eyes as his smell enveloped her, and took in a deep inhale. His footsteps moved away again, and she opened her eyes, quickly averting them and clearing her throat. God, if they'd noticed how she breathed him in—

"Of course, the winter solstice isn't for another day, but the sky is quite clear tonight." He checked the through the eyepiece. "Come, look."

She stepped forward and leaned, peering through the eyepiece. There in a cradle of dark sky were a bundle of stars swathed in a faint, rusty glow. Beyond them, there were lots of tiny ones, hundreds more, just within the small diameter of the eyepiece.

"S'beautiful." Her voice was soft, and she wondered how she could ever have thought that the seminar on outer space could've put her to sleep.

"You can see more stars than with the naked eye."

"Mm. Can I move it around?"

"Sure, like this." He tapped where she would need to hold it so she could gently swivel the tube and adjust aperture, and she placed her hand there, but whatever he said next might as well have been in a foreign language for as much as she paid attention.

He was so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, but he was very careful not to come into contact with her except for chaste touches on her hands and wrists to guide her in using the telescope. It drove her mad. Suddenly, the very last thing she wanted him to be was careful. She lost track of his instruction as she envisioned him leaning in and brushing the hair from her neck, his lips would then find her ear, where his breath would tickle her throat and his voice would make her meld back against him.

And then he stepped away, cold air settling between them, and her cheeks were burning from her thoughts. She swallowed and attempted to adjust and look through the scope again, but saw nothing but her own eyelashes.

"So, you'd, ehm, rather pursue the arts than business?"

Rose nodded, taking a calming breath.

He rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Can't say I blame you, rather fond of it myself. Dabble a bit…Though, I'm afraid while there's a great respect for a master's work these days, there's far less of it for the aspiring artist. Doesn't sound too different from your time."

She looked over her shoulder at him, glad to not have to pretend as though she'd followed his instructions. His gaze was sincere, heavy with empathy, and she wanted to— "Yeah."

"You're lucky to live in a time when women can choose to study business at the university level, but to have your passion discouraged like that must've been heartbreaking."

"Um, yeah. But they were right, though. S'not much I can do for myself in art."

"Is that what they told you?"

Rose licked her lips and stared at her feet. Yes, that's exactly what they had told her, but not in so many words. She'd heard compliments and encouragement all of her life, until it was time to make the harder choices. Then, her art became a nuisance, a thing she needed to set aside for more realistic goals. There was laundry to fold or a shift to cover at Henrik's. Her mum would nag her about leaving her sketchpad on the table, or they'd row over an irresponsible art supply purchase that meant they couldn't afford half of their groceries.

And then her mum had met Pete. Stable, financially secure Pete, who had offered Rose the perfect career if she'd finish uni. So practical, so safe. How could she turn it down?

Sometimes, though, she just wanted to fill a canvas with her love and her pain. She wanted to sketch idly to soothe her harried mind, but there was scarcely time for that anymore. Her heart began to ache as she thought of it, how jealous she'd become over finding out that one of her classmates was a digital artist with her own website and everything. That could've been her, she could've done both, but at some point the world had convinced her that she needed to choose. Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes, and she just shook her head, knowing she'd been quiet too long.

"We can talk about it another time," the Doctor said softly.

Rose just nodded, wishing he would stand closer to her again so she didn't have to think of it anymore.

"Anyway, I do need an assistant. That much was true." He sniffed and pulled the ceiling hatch closed. "Offer still stands, if you want. You'd help keep my lesson notes organised, perhaps help with a bit of research. I know it's not artistic, per se, but I'll see if I can find some things for you. Paper and pastels, charcoal, whatever you need."

Rose stared at him, his offer tempting, but thinking of her mum, of her responsibilities back in her time brought a wave of guilt over just abandoning them on a whim as she had done. She took a deep breath.

"Thanks, but… I'm not sure how long I'll be here, and I'd hate to start work and then have to pop off to 2007. Finding a place to stay is imposing enough, yeah?"

As the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She'd come here with a purpose, a promise to fulfill. But who was more important? Either way, she felt pulled by others to satisfy someone else's wishes _for _her.

"Very well, understood." The Doctor nodded, his jaw set, creating a deep dimple in his cheek.

The ensuing silence was deafening. Rose reached for her coin purse, busying herself with the embroidered pattern on its side.

"Of course… there will be travel opportunities between quarters, and I'd need your help with those. We'd go all over. To other universities, out to the field and make discoveries. You could illustrate our travels." He shrugged, bottom lip poking out as he kept his gaze averted, but she knew he was doing it on purpose. Sweetening the deal. He wanted her to stay, and that turned her stomach into a flurry of butterflies.

She grinned, tongue at her teeth. "Okay. I'll do it."

"Brilliant! Oh, Rose Tyler—" He spread his arms as if to pull her into an embrace, but as his eyes lowered to her mouth, something shifted in his gaze and he quickly diverted the hug to a handshake.

Rose shook his hand, holding back a massive pout. What was that about? Had she misunderstood his signals? Was it some kind of social faux pas of the era? She let her hand linger in his, felt his fingertips brush the soft lace of her glove against her skin, making her shiver.

Donna sighed noisily, drawing attention to herself. "All right! All right… here's what's gonna happen." She slapped the magazine she'd been reading on the table and stood. "Rose, love, you are going to come and stay with me. I don't quite have the space for it, just renting a small room in an apartment up the road, but I'd rather you not sleep up here in this _attic _for God's sake."

Rose turned to Donna, a mixture of disappointment and thankfulness making a rather odd cocktail in her stomach. "Oh—wow. Thank you, Donna. Really."

The Doctor had a bit of a frown as well as he looked from Donna to Rose and back. "Er, yes. That's-that's far more suitable."

Donna looked between them. "You two are something else. I'm leaving now, so you two will have to canoodle another time."

"What?" The Doctor looked incredulous and dropped Rose's hand. "We weren't—"

"S'all right, Doctor."

Donna clicked her tongue. "I'll never get used to that silly nickname."

They left the attic, and headed down to a side exit, hoping to further avoid the gathering on the foyer. They stepped outside to the crisp, winter night, Rose still bundled in the Doctor's coat. Their breath drifted on the air, and Rose looked up to the evening sky, seeking the cluster of stars she'd viewed through the telescope.

"Meet me here tomorrow," the Doctor said, coming to stand next to her. "Please? Once you settle, of course. I'd love to get you on the books, and show you my laboratory and the lecture hall. Maybe we can have tea as well?"

Rose looked back to see that Donna was just out of earshot, adjusting her coat and hat. She smiled up at him. "Yeah, I'd like that."

He smiled. "Fantastic."

Donna joined them then. "All right, let's get on with it. I'm knackered."

The Doctor reached for Rose's hand and placed a lingering kiss on the back of it. "It was so lovely to meet you, Rose."

"You too, Doctor."

She then went along with Donna down the pavement, tossing a smile at him over her shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you to kilodalton for beta and lauraxxtennant for britpick. Happy Christmas chapter!_

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><p><em>21st December, 1912<em>

Rose awoke the following morning to the sound of Donna washing up in the kitchen downstairs. Groaning, she stretched, making the old bed springs whinge and the frame creak. Her whole body ached, and she shivered from a draft by the window. The bed itself was _terrible_. Uneven and musty with springs poking her back throughout the night. She forced herself to sit up, pull on a threadbare robe, and plod across the short distance to the bedroom door.

The Doctor's coat, that he'd let her borrow the evening before, hung on a hook by the door. She stroked it absently as she slipped out of the room.

Downstairs, Donna had set out toast and prepared a kettle of tea. She sat at the small table, munching on a biscuit as she read the paper. They exchanged a morning greeting, and Rose's stomach growled as she eyed the toast. But she had another priority that filled her with absolute dread.

"Just gonna, um, pop into the loo," Rose said with an awkward smile, and shuffled past Donna to the door that lead to a tiny patio in the back.

A blast of winter air swept up her night clothes and made her shudder. She wrapped her arms around herself and lept the few steps over to the dreaded outdoor loo. Once inside, the relief from direct chill was short lived as she couldn't very well see what sort of insect or web she might be touching. This was not an aspect of time travel she anticipated, and as she sat on the ice cold seat, she closed her eyes and imagined she was back at home.

She finished up and returned to the kitchen, where she washed her hands and poured herself a mug of tea.

"S'a bit cold, isn't it? Literally freeze my bum off out there." She eyed her tea, second guessing anything that might make her have to go again so soon.

"You'll get used to it," Donna said, setting aside the papers.

Rose laughed "Not so sure about that. Thanks, though, for letting me crash here."

"Crash?" Donna made a face, and then shrugged it off. "It's nothing. John used to have that room, but he spent so much time at the uni that he decided to move out. The owners've been rotating through tenants ever since. Lucky my current housemate is on holiday."

"Ah, that's… I'll pay rent as soon as I can, then." Rose leaned against the counter and sipped her tea pensively, not really imagining herself here too much longer. If she could just understand why she'd been sent here—meeting the Doctor couldn't be all there was to it—she'd get it all sorted and head back to 2007. The thought of spending another night here, of using that horrible outhouse…

But then there was an odd sort of flip in her stomach at the news that she'd slept in a bed where the Doctor had slept, however long ago it might've been. She took another sip of tea to hide the quirk in her lips.

"I'm heading out in a bit for a couple of interviews. There's a factory job up the street, and another at a law firm—administrative."

"Ah." Rose finally sat at the table across from Donna, cradling the mug in her hands as the warm steam wafted under her nose. "Didn't know you were looking for work—why don't you work with the Doct—with John, since he needs help?"

"Oh, god. Could you imagine? Me, blundering around in a lab with all sorts of important scientific equipment? I'm not sure if that life's cut out for me."

"I've only worked in a shop; not much more suited myself."

Donna smiled. "He's seen something in you that says otherwise." She offered Rose a piece of toast, and Rose took it gladly.

"Thanks. I'm sure he's seen something in you, too."

"Nah, I'm nothing special. I don't know, maybe sometime I'd like to see what it's like to travel. His mouth won't stop though, and I can get a bit loud when I'm bored. Anyway, I'll take you to the university on my way out. Still want to hang 'round my ridiculous brother, then?"

"Yeah, I'll just, um… what do I wear? Didn't exactly pack a bag."

"I'll let you borrow one of my frocks. Might be a bit big on you, though. We can pin the waist in." She looked Rose over. "And the bust."

Rose snorted, and finished off her tea. "That's fine, I'd appreciate it."

Once they finished breakfast and got dressed, Rose and Donna set out for the university. It took a lot of willpower—a lot—to simply drape the Doctor's coat over her arm and not nestle inside of it as she had the night before. But, Donna had also lent her a frock coat, and she didn't want it to be too obvious that she fancied him.

They walked a couple streets to the main road, where Rose was further immersed in the trappings of early twentieth century London. The pavement was bursting with people on their way to work, or the shops, or wherever, in suits and long dresses. A few old model cars swerved around horse-drawn carriages through the busy streets. Wreaths with proud, red bows perched atop every lamppost, and shop windows were dressed for Christmas. Rose smiled at the sight of it, like stepping onto a movie set. Maybe it wasn't so bad here after all.

They took a trolleybus slathered in old-lettered advertisements for soap and cigarettes through the chaotic intersection, narrowly missing collisions with several pedestrians, automobiles, and carriages along the way. Through it all, Rose couldn't stop grinning—boys selling newspapers! Ladies with wide-brimmed hats! Donna insisted that she'd gone bonkers.

When they arrived at the university campus, the Doctor was waiting on the steps that led to McCrimmon Hall. He tucked the book he'd been reading under his arm, and rushed over to them in a cloud of frozen breath.

"Rose!" He said, smiling.

Rose grinned as she reached him and his adorable rosy cheeks. "Made it. Thought I wouldn't there for a bit."

The Doctor laughed. "Yes, it gets a bit mad out there with the automobiles taking over."

"That never changes." She couldn't stop smiling. Their eyes locked and she lost track of what she wanted to say next. Her fingers absently stroked the collar of his coat that was still draped over her arm, and that jolted her to her senses.

"Oh!" She held out his coat. "Thanks for letting me borrow it."

He took it gingerly and slid it on, not hiding his sigh of relief at its welcome warmth in the slightest. "Ah, thank you, thank you. I see you've got your own now, that's nice."

"Yeah, um, Donna let me borrow some of her stuff."

"Speaking of Donna," Donna says, "I'll be off. Have to make it over to Darrent street by half nine."

"Oh, sorry. Hullo, Donna!" The Doctor smiled and waved at her.

Donna rolled her eyes. "Goodbye, John. Rose. See you later." With that, Donna departed, and the Doctor and Rose stood alone for a quiet moment in the brick courtyard.

"Let's get you inside to warm up. I'll show you 'round a bit, then we can go for tea?"

"Sounds lovely." Rose finally managed a shiver as though she was only made aware that she was cold because he'd pointed it out.

They headed up the stairs and entered the building foyer—which was cleared of evidence of the previous night's revelry. They walked past the Christmas tree and to an office where Rose gave her information—name, address, experience, and a few other details that had been part of her previous origin story—to the personnel secretary.

The Doctor pulled the office door shut behind him once they'd exited. "See, that wasn't so bad."

"In the future, they'd know I made everything up in an instant," she whispered as they walked away.

"Good thing you're here and not there."

"Yeah." She smiled.

Nervous energy still sizzled through her. She couldn't believe she said she lived at the Powell Estate—it didn't even exist yet! But as he fell in place beside her, his gob running faster than she could piece together what he was saying, the anxious feeling gradually ebbed.

He gestured to portraits, artwork, and architectural elements along the way, telling enchanting stories of each one, as they headed down the hall towards his office. After a time, Rose couldn't be sure if the things themselves were interesting at all, or if she'd just began to feed off of the wonder in his voice. He could turn a taper candle into a genie's lamp with his words alone.

At last they reached his office, which was adjacent to a lecture hall and a laboratory. He waltzed in and stood before a small desk off to the side.

"This'll be your desk."

"I'll be in here with you?" Rose's eyebrows went up at that. She scanned the room, taking in the overflowing bookshelves, the maps on the walls, and instruments of science scattered throughout.

"Yes. Er—if that's all right."

"Oh, 'course." She smiled at him over her shoulder as she reached out to spin an antique (well, contemporary in this case) globe.

"Brilliant!" He watched her spin the globe a couple of revolutions, and then clapped suddenly. "Well! You can get settled in another time. Come—I've my very own lecture hall." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, as he swooped out of the room.

Rose followed him through the door and into a stadium-style lecture room embellished in dark, lacquered wood. There was a large podium down below, and a blackboard covered in equations stretched from one wall to the other.

"Still looks like this in my day. Podium and everything."

"Really?"

Rose nodded, and brushed her fingertips along a seatback nearby. "In the older buildings, yeah. So this is where you teach?"

"Yeah. Try to, anyway."

"I bet they love you. Um, to listen—love to listen to… uh, your lectures."

The Doctor's eyebrows crept up his forehead and he rocked back on his heels. "Some might. Think others just want to sleep."

"Could I sit in sometime?"

"Er… likely not. Sorry." He turned away from her and fussed with his hair a bit. "Right! Let's pop into the lab, and then there's more to see outside. Allons-y!" He cruised out of the room, footsteps and voice echoing.

Rose stared at the spot where he'd been standing, dumbfounded. "O-kay…" She trailed behind him, wondering what that was all about, and found that she couldn't quite pay much attention to whatever he said about the lab itself. Did he not want her to sit in on one of his lectures? Was it against some arbitrary rule? Maybe he thought she wouldn't understand it. She frowned slightly at the thought.

He spent a lot of time talking about an experiment he had going on in a corner, and she shoved aside the bothersome thoughts so she could pay attention. Because he seemed to really want to show her what he was doing. Something with crystals. He had this face—this hopeful, boyish glint in his eyes as he waited for her reaction, and she couldn't very well ignore _that_.

"You can grow crystals in a lab?" she asked, feeling stupid. Playing right into one of her worries.

That must have been the correct response, however, because he was rather pleased to take that question and run. Showing her various crystal formations he'd been studying—some which had originated in meteorites—until he caught her hiding a yawn behind her hand.

"Sorry. Sometimes I get a bit carried away," he said.

"No! S'fine; you're interesting, I promise. I just didn't get very much sleep."

"Ah. It's that grotty old mattress, isn't it? Always hated that thing."

Rose blinked and averted her eyes, knowing it looked like she fluttered her eyelashes at him, but she began to think about him lying in the bed, and then in the bed with her, and he was kind of gazing at her in wonder, and oh god just start talking again! About crystals, about seventeenth century architecture,_anything_!

"Er…this way, Rose. I'll show you around campus."

_Phew._

They made their way back downstairs and out into the courtyard where they ran into a couple of the Doctor's professor friends—Ian Chesterson and Barbara Wright. He introduced her to them, and they exchanged a brief conversation about her position as his new assistant, and what they might be doing for the brief Christmas break, and other things that Rose tuned out, because she'd honed in on one little detail. One little, very important detail.

The Doctor was not doing _anything_ for Christmas. '_Per usual.__'_

"Cheers, John!" said Professor Chesterson. "Lovely to meet you, Miss Tyler. Happy Christmas!"

Rose smiled. "Happy Christmas."

"You're always welcome to join us on Christmas Eve, you know," Professor Wright offered as they began to depart.

The Doctor waved his hand at them as though swatting away the invitation. "Thanks, but, you know. Not my thing—that domestic stuff."

Once the pair of professors had walked out of earshot. Rose peered up at the Doctor.

"You're not even going to come to Donna's place for Christmas?"

"Erm, I might pop in at some point over the break, but we don't typically do anything together. She has her friends, and they'll go out for nog at some pub or another." The Doctor said as he began to walk towards a statue just off the courtyard proper, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

Rose kept up with his brisk pace. "You should come over this year. Maybe I'll cook? I could decorate it and everything! Oh, you should bring your old-timey record player—or whatever you call it here. Play some Christmas music, open a few crackers… d'you have those?"

The Doctor glanced at her, a hint of intrigue in his eyes, but it vanished as soon as he thrust a finger up into the air in the general direction of the statue nearby. "Statue! This was dedicated to McCrimmon Hall in the year sixteen twenty-three, and depicts the hall's namesake, James McCrimmon, here in a tartan—rather young for a founder, don't you reckon?"

Rose sighed at his obvious evasion, giving the statue a brief once-over. She decided to let it go for now, but in her mind the seed of that idea was beginning to sprout.

"Come on, Doctor, I know you're not going to give me the typical rising undergrad tour, are you? I've seen this statue dozens of times already."

The Doctor's hand drifted behind his head to scratch his neck, and he pulled a face. "Dozens? No, that would be…" His eyes darted across the courtyard to an alcove between two buildings. "This way!" He grabbed her hand and took off.

Rose was caught off guard, but managed not to stumble as she fell right into step with him. She had to hold up the hem of her dress with one hand, and hope that her shoes didn't fly off of her feet, as they rushed into the alcove.

Inside was a small walkway that led between the buildings, and a stone bench built into the façade. He sat down on the bench and she sat next to him.

"This is where I come to read sometimes. There's a stretch of daylight that shines right into this alley, makes it bright and warm. You know who else would come and have a sit here?" His grin returned. "Edmund Halley."

"O-oh?" The name was somewhat familiar, but she was far more inclined to notice the proximity of the outer edge of his hand to hers, and the rhythm of his leg as he tapped his foot.

"You know, the fellow who predicted the return of Halley's Comet?" His leg stilled as he looked at her. He licked his lips and redirected his gaze across the alley to an iron-barred basement window.

"Right! Yes, I've heard of that. Just missed seeing it last time 'round."

"Oh?" His head tilted, looking back at her. "When will that be?"

"It was, uhm, it came by in 1986. Was born a year later."

He shifted a little in his seat and swallowed. "Er… Just missed it here too, then, I'm afraid. Twentieth of April, 1910." He stood abruptly. "Shall we continue?"

Rose squinted at him, confused, and he quickly stuck out his hand to help her up.

"Forgive me," he said with a sheepish smile.

"Oh, no, I—um…don't have to do this with me." She took his hand anyway, because it was _his _hand. "Was just rather, you know, sudden change of topic."

He made no comment as he helped her rise, and then let go of her hand to shove his into his pocket. "I want to show you the library next. It's a bit of a walk, but it's worth it."

"Perfect." She smiled up at him as they began to walk.

His eyes lingered on her smile before he turned away to look straight ahead. "'Course there's a library in McCrimmon, but this is the oldest continuously running research library on campus—in Britain!—, where I'm taking you. First established in 1602. They're about to reach a collection of _one million_ texts—imagine!"

Rose tucked her hands into her overcoat pockets. The silly dainty gloves were nothing against the bite of cold. "I bet I know where we're going."

"No, you musn't."

"'Fraid so. The old G! Has to be."

He made a face like she'd just said the most offensive word in the English language. "…_PardonI_? There is no such—"

"The Gallifrey Library, with the old, round, knob thingies all over the doors, yeah?"

He sputtered. "But, that's—now hear. You mentioned before that my lecture hall looks much the same in your time. You said you've seen the statue of McCrimmon _dozens _of times, and now you know entirely too much about the physical appearance of the very doors of the Gallifrey library—are you…." He narrowed his eyes. "Are you a student?"

Rose felt her cheeks burst into flame and she looked away from him. But, wait—

"You _know_ I'm a student already. I told you everything about that."

"Yes, but, you hadn't mentioned that you're a student _here._"

"I thought that would be obvious. I mean, I don't take classes at McCrimmon, but still. And it's in the future, so?"

"There are a plethora of universities in Britain, maybe even more in a near century from now—how should I?" He ran his hand roughly through his hair without regard for what it looked like when he was done. (It looked like a hot mess—still attractive, though).

"Is it gonna be a problem?" Rose stopped walking, her irritation now rising, and not even his adorably mussed hair could abate it.

He stopped and took a calming breath, before turning around to face her again. "No, not at all. Not for this, not for your employment here. Forget I reacted that way, all right? I was being a prat."

Rose bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah. 'Kay."

His chest rose and fell as he stared at her for a lingering moment. "Not too much farther—though you may know that already." He turned and resumed walking. She heard him mutter something about _if you still want to go_ under his breath.

Rose quickened her steps to catch up with him. "Oi, I still want you to show me, Doctor."

"Do you? You've been there, after all." He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

"But not with you."

His brisk steps slowed at that, and he smiled, the tension melting away from him as his eyes glinted at her in the winter sunlight. The rest of their walk was much more pleasant, as he resumed narration of the wonders they encountered along the way. Well, they were wonders when he was done with them. Before, they'd just been an odd arrangement of trees (the gravesite of an unknown woman buried almost two thousand years ago), an off-coloured stone in the foundation of a building (marks a spot on a map he's been studying, but don't tell anyone about that), or a pathway that lead into a bricked-over stairwell (an old entrance to a now unused corridor of the London Underground).

At last, they reached the library, which was… closed for the holidays. The Doctor groaned.

"I should've known. Bloody Christmas."

Rose looked around. "There's not another way in?"

The Doctor turned to her slowly, an odd look in his eyes. "What are you suggesting?"

"Old things usually have secrets." She gave a wry smile.

He looked up at the old theatre building next door and back to Rose. "Rose Tyler, you're suggesting something rather dubious. Maybe we should just go and have our tea, hm?"

"I saw that glance. There is a way!" She laughed and did a little hop in place. "Come on, show me?"

The Doctor's serious expression broke apart as one of boyish excitement took over. "This way, my lady." He held up his arm, and she looped hers through it a bit too readily.

They walked up to the theatre, which, to their absolute luck, was just about to start a holiday matinee performance. The Doctor ordered two tickets, and placed a couple of coins on the counter.

"Thank you. Hope you and your lovely wife have a Merry Christmas!"

"Er—yes." He furrowed his brow.

She smiled at the blush creeping across his cheeks, and nestled closer to him when he didn't bother to correct the ticket seller's mistake.

The Doctor didn't (wouldn't?) look at her their entire walk through the theatre halls. In a way, she wanted to go ahead and watch the performance with him, but as he led them past their destination and into another hallway, looking around to ensure they hadn't been seen, the excitement of adventure returned.

Unfortunately, it also came with him dropping her arm. "This way," he whispered, and they hurried down the narrow hall and into a stairwell. They ended up in a storage basement, and he headed for a large, motley stack of stage props.

"Keep an ear out. There's a hidden hatch on the floor back here somewhere. Just need to…" He pulled something from his pocket, which lit up as he aimed it at the floor.

Rose kept an eye on the hall, and grinned as she heard the tiny squeal of a hinge from behind the stack.

"Ladies first," he said with a smile, twirling the odd little instrument in his hand, sending a beam of bluish light flitting about the dark room.

Rose hurried behind the stack of props and climbed down into it. The Doctor followed behind and closed the latch, bathing them in darkness—save for that little glow atop the stick.

"What's that?"

"This? Oh—just a little invention of mine. I keep lock picking tools inside, and it has a light, and a screwdriver. And a pen! Simple, but quite useful." He aimed the light ahead, illuminating an earthen tunnel with stonework along the base of each wall.

Rose smiled, walking slightly ahead of him. "How old is this tunnel?"

"Dunno exactly. It's at least as old as the library. There are hundreds of tunnels like this all throughout London."

"Imagine, people used this tunnel hundreds of years ago. S'like we're walking with ghosts."

"I've often felt that way myself," the Doctor said, a smile in his voice.

They continued along in silence for a ways until Rose caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. She stopped and turned to see nothing but a wall of earth at her side.

"There any other passageways off of this tunnel?"

The Doctor stopped behind her. "No. Just a straight tunnel from point A to point B. We're almost to point B, actually. Why?"

"I swear I just saw a light this way. Like a shimmer." She put her hand out to feel the earth, which was warm to the touch. "You didn't see it?"

"No, afraid not. Maybe it was my screwdriver." He wiggled it around, making the shadows wobble.

She put her hand on another section of wall on the opposite side, and it was cold to the touch. "Huh…"

"What is it?" He placed his hand next to hers on the cold side.

"This side's warm—that's cold."

The Doctor then reached out to touch the warm wall, but was stopped by an echoing _click_ from up ahead in the direction of the library. He snuffed the light atop his screwdriver in an instant, and they were entombed in darkness. He grabbed her hand, and tugged. They raced back along the tunnel as quietly as possible. How they managed to make it the entire way without slamming into a wall was beyond her, but the Doctor seemed to know the way rather well. They reached the stairs and went up through the hatch into the theatre basement, and didn't stop.

The Doctor peered around the corner to check the hall, and they walked briskly the rest of the way until they reached concession, where a crowd had gathered as the play was on intermission.

It wasn't until they were outside again that they both collapsed against the nearest wall and laughed, high on adrenaline. Rose smiled up to the Doctor as he turned to face her, their hands still locked together.

"We should do that again sometime."

The Doctor's indecipherable expression dissolved as he smiled. "Oh, I like you."

Rose bit her lip and looked down, her hair falling over her face. His smile was turning her blood into lightning, and her legs into honey. Her heart was floating outside of her body, tethered to the place where their hands were joined. It'd been so long since a smile made her feel that way.

Much to her immense disappointment, however, he unlaced his hand from hers slowly, and took a step back, dusting off his suit and clearing his throat. "That is, I mean—I enjoy your company."

Rose clenched her empty hand and nodded. "Yeah. S-same."

She sighed, and whether he caught the frustration in that rush of breath, he didn't comment. Every time she thought he might mean something more… with his words, with his glances… he'd yank the rug from under her feet and prove just the opposite. Or, maybe she was imagining things. Maybe he looked at everyone that way, and she was only seeing it as something more because that's what she wanted. She was a new friend to him—an assistant. A student.

The silence that had fallen between them was growing more and more awkward, and was saved at the last moment by a group of carolers making their way up the pavement towards them. They managed to dodge them to the tune of _Hark! The Herald Angels Sing_ and ended up right outside the very tea shop the Doctor had planned to take her all along.

"Still up for tea, miss Tyler?" he said, opening the door for her.

Rose smiled. "Only if you promise me we're gonna talk about what happened in that tunnel. Can't just carry on like it was nothing, yeah?"

The Doctor beamed. "It's on the top of the list."

They were seated, and were brought tea and a plate of biscuits. The Doctor put two lumps of sugar into his tea, and took a sip.

"I don't know of many people who'd know about that tunnel," he said, glancing thoughtfully out of the window.

"You know what this means, right?"

"What?"

"We have to go back." She grinned and took a chocolate biscuit from the plate.

"As you wish. Another day, though, perhaps."

"Yeah."

They were mistaken for a married couple once again as the Doctor paid the bill.

_24th December, 1912_

Rose lit the last candle on the small kitchen table, and stood back to look around at her handiwork. The Doctor had lent her a few pounds so that she could purchase clothing and other necessities (which she promised to pay back once she began to earn a wage), and she just had to spend a little of it on a Christmas surprise.

She hadn't gone too far. Well, she tried not to. Evergreen garlands adorned with ribbon (discarded as excess by a couple of shops around the corner) were strung up along the cabinets. The church up the road was cooking up a Christmas meal for the community, so she procured a mince pies, bread with drippings, and a dish of potatoes and onions. Earlier, she'd walked up to the corner store to buy a few other things—a premade plum pudding, crackers, and candles. She'd set the table with the mismatched dishes from the cabinets and kept the food warm in a big cookpot on the fireplace in the entrance room.

She might be in a completely different era, but Rose Tyler knew how to improvise. And, luckily, how to start a hearth fire.

Now she just had to wait. Donna would be off work soon (she got the factory job), and the Doctor—well, he insisted he was stopping by to drop off something he'd borrowed from Donna. She hoped he'd remember the gramophone, because one of the other items she'd found whilst rummaging through the closet in her temporary room was a vinyl of Christmas music.

She bit her lip, smoothed out the new sea green, glass beaded dress, and sighed. He was either going to love it, or hate it, and the odds made her stomach twist.

Donna arrived a few minutes later, flinging her bag and her frock coat on the settee.

"Bloody—what's that smell? What the hell's going on in here?"

Rose cringed, hearing her enter. Well, she didn't sound angry so much as astounded, at least. She stepped out of the kitchen and waved her hands. "Er, surprise!"

Donna laughed. "You did this! Blimey, thought my housemate had come back from holiday at first, then I remembered she's a lump." She lifted the lid of the cookpot and inhaled. "Mmm. Can you stay forever?"

"Jury's still out on that."

"Well, I'm starving. Let's—"

There was a knock at the door.

"Oh, I invited the Doct—uh, John." Rose hurried to the door.

"You did _what_?" Donna covered the food. "Oh, I've gotta see this."

Rose answered the door, and sure enough, it was the Doctor bearing a large case.

"Rose—" He inhaled, beholding her with a sweep of his gaze.

"Oh! You brought it?" Rose smiled, offering to take the bulky, squarish case.

He relinquished the portable gramophone to her and closed the door as he stepped in. "You asked, so of course. Here, let's set it up on this." He helped her place it on a small writing desk near the door.

Rose's heart was in her throat. He hadn't once commented on the smell of food, or what little decoration in the kitchen that he might be able to see from where he stood. He busied himself with setting up the gramophone whilst greeting Donna, and once he had finished, he turned towards Rose again.

"I brought a few albums from my—all right, why does it smell like pie and Christmas trees in here?"

"Took you long enough to notice, you big dodo." Donna grinned.

"I'm glad you came." Rose smiled nervously. "Told you I wanted to do something special for Christmas. Come, look." She took his hand and pulled him into the kitchen. Donna followed with a little excited giggle.

The Doctor stood in the small open space of the kitchen, eyes roaming around the crude decorations. His expression was blank, save for the dimple in his cheek that made Rose's stomach sink. That wasn't a good sign.

"Happy Christmas!" She announced, hurrying forward and standing before the table, smiling as genuinely as she could despite the flurry of butterflies in her belly.

His eyes finally landed on her, and a slow smile emerged on his face. "Rose Tyler."

"I promise we don't have to do this long. I just thought it'd be nice to do a little something, 'cos, I dunno… just seemed a bit bummed at the thought of you being alone for Christmas. And Donna's family, so, of course she's welcome."

Donna grinned. "I'm popping out later, but I won't turn down a warm meal and the chance to see my brother open a cracker."

"Not opposed to food myself," the Doctor said, eyeing the table.

Rose couldn't quite get a read on him. He wasn't running for the hills—so that was good. But he was still more on the guarded side of things.

"You're not cross, are you? We don't have to go caroling or anything like that. I got a plum pudding, though, so I thought I'd—"

"No, I'm not upset. This is… it's nice. Very kind of you," he said quietly, swallowing.

Rose drew in a shaky breath. "I'll just—" She hurried past him to the sitting room to fetch the cookpot, and heard a soft thwack as she rounded the corner.

"Ow! What was that—"

"She did this for you. God knows why, but you could at least show her a bit more…"

The rest of whatever Donna had been about to say was muffled by Rose putting on the vinyl of Christmas music on her way through the sitting room. The record began to play, and the tips of her ears burned as she overheard them once more.

"She did this for _us_, Donna."

"You keep tellin' yourself that."

"Oh, this is actually a decent composition of_ We Three Kings._" The Doctor began to hum along.

"For. _You_."

"She's a friend, Donna. And a student."

"Is that why you've got your pants in a bunch over?"

Rose carried the heavy pot into the kitchen, face flushed and heart pounding. She tried not to let on that she'd been listening, but she couldn't help feel dejected.

"Erm… let me help you," said the Doctor.

"Thanks." Rose said, and he assisted as she pulled the various items from the pot and placed them on the table.

They all sat down and ate the meal, settling into a much less awkward conversation about their respective days. The Doctor and Rose pulled apart one of the crackers, and he smiled, eyes dancing, as she set the pink paper crown atop her hair. When they were finished with the meal, and with the remaining crackers, Rose stood.

"I, um… have another thing. Stay here." She went upstairs and picked up two presents she had stowed in a draw, and brought them downstairs. When she returned, they had just finished clearing the table.

The Doctor turned towards her first, as a harp accompanied aria of _the Holly and the Ivy_ filled the air, and his hands clenched at his sides. Rose licked her lips, and he didn't miss the little subconscious gesture—nor did she miss that he'd glanced at her mouth. It was quick, but made more obvious by how he shifted his position and adjusted his tie.

Rose smiled, her confidence bolstered, and held up the two newspaper-wrapped gifts. They were each roughly the size of an album cover, and tied with red ribbon. "Wouldn't be Christmas without gifts, yeah?"

Donna turned around then and crossed her arms. "Really, love, you didn't have to do that."

"No, it's—I mean, thank you for everything. For letting me stay here, and helping me feel welcome. You know. I could've just ended up here on my own and…" She exhaled, feeling like she was giving a presentation before her entire class. "Anyway, this is yours, and this is yours." She handed them each their gifts.

The Doctor took his, but captured her hand before she could pull away. "Thank you."

She smiled shyly at him, at the warmth and sincerity in his eyes.

He then tore open the paper with relish and held up the object within. It was a painting of the stone bench where he'd told her he liked to sit and read. More of a study of light and shade—as she'd caught it at the perfect time of day. Right when a beam of sunlight shone into the alley to illuminate the bench itself, leaving everything else in deep shadow.

He stared at it for a long time, right through the end of the song, and through Donna opening her own gift. At last, he looked up and over at his sister. "What've you got there?"

Donna smiled, holding it out. "It's a meadow of flowers. How lovely—thank you, Rose."

"Forget-me-nots," Rose clarified. "They came to mind when I went by a park on one of my walks. Grass was all brown, but where I'm from, that park is covered in forget-me-nots in the spring."

"Was about to ask when you had time to do this," Donna said, staring at the painting once more.

"You've been working, and the Doctor's been trying to finish out one of his research projects, so…Found a few things to keep myself busy." Rose fidgeted with her earring and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Used the painting things you let me borrow."

The Doctor sniffed. "Well, I have nothing in return, I'm afraid. All of this was unexpected…"

Rose winced a little. "Sorry—I hope I haven't—"

"Don't. You needn't worry, I'm just rather taken by surprise, and this is… it's beautiful." He patted his jacket pocket and pulled out his glasses, sliding them on. "You captured the angle of the ray so brilliantly."

Donna propped her painting up on an end table under a lamp. "Well, I'll leave you two be. Thanks again for all this. Was really thoughtful of you."

"Oh—ta. Really, I was happy to do it. No trouble at all."

Donna smiled and slung on her frock coat. "I'll be back late."

"Take care," said the Doctor, still gazing at his painting.

And then they were alone, the sorrowful sound of _Greensleeves_ lingering in the background.

"I have a feeling she left early on purpose," said the Doctor. "And this is _not _an appropriate Christmas song."

Rose stared past him at the record as it spun out the haunting melody. "I think it's nice. Better than the stuff they come out with in the eighties."

The Doctor smiled at that. "Would you sing one for me?"

Rose laughed. "Oh, god! No way."

"Please?" he reached around and pulled the needle off the record. "Let's hear it. A taste of the future."

"Are you sure? You've heard better cats in the alley, I know it."

It was his turn to laugh. "That's all right. I'll have a go after you if it'll make you feel better. I'll do something equally embarrassing. Deal?"

"Fine. I'll sing… I'll sing _Fairytale of New York_ if you dance for me. Show me your moves." Rose flashed a cunning smile as she swayed her hips a little and put her arms up.

The Doctor blinked at her. "Oh, no. No, no, no. I'm not dancing."

"Please? Don't you wanna hear me sing? Taste of the future? Come on, it's only fair."

He sighed and set the painting down. "All right, since it's just me and you. But I'm not dancing to _Greensleeves_."

"It'll be to whatever you want, then."

"How about with you. While you sing."

Rose's breath hitched as he stepped closer. "O-okay. Yeah."

He smiled and reached for her hand.


End file.
